I visited my husband yesterday at the nursing facility. It is too easy to get caught up in the flow of negative imagination: “Oh, what if he had stopped smoking years earlier?”; “What if I had been more attentive to him before this happened?”; “What if? What if? What if?” I have to stop myself. These trains of thought do no one any good, and I know Alan would never have stopped smoking if the doctors had said he shouldn’t smoke at least until he healed up from his pneumonia, and if I had decided to stop enabling him by bringing him cigarettes. He’s clean two months now, and maybe his dementia helps the situation, because he does not always remember to ask me for them, but he also forgets that I have told him I am not enabling that old habit any more.